


The Sound of a Lion's Roar (Part one - Before)

by Madame_Klancealot



Series: Klance in the Hunger Games [1]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Inspired by The Hunger Games, Keith & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, POV Keith (Voltron), Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Keith/Lance (Voltron), Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 08:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18869173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Klancealot/pseuds/Madame_Klancealot
Summary: It's the year of the 50th Hunger Games, also known as the second quarter quell, and President Zarkon has a special treat for this season's reaping.Brothers; Keith and Shiro prepare themselves for a new reaping....and worse things that are yet to come.Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to these stories. I just love the hunger games and voltron, and want to put my own spin on the story with Klance and the gang from the franchise and do this crossover - because curiosity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello. I started rewatching the movies last night, and got to thinking...how about I throw Klance into an arena to the fight to the death. And so I wrote three chapters. Omg. I'm posting the first one now to see how it plays out. 
> 
> This is my own spin on all three books. It'll be a fusion of the three so there will only be one Hunger Games happening, but a lot is to come if I want to write it...
> 
> At times, the order will follow the original story, so there will be parallells to both Hunger Games and Voltron, but I still want to put my own personal touch to the story, and I hope you guys enjoy it, and feel a lot from it. 
> 
> I won't be making it too detailed like Collins does, and since her writing is so good, and I can never live up to it, but I'll do my best. :) 
> 
> The first part will be Teen - second and third will become Mature..

_I heard the gilded melody of my mother’s singing voice this morning. That could mean only one thing._

 

_It’s reaping day._

 

\--

 

I heard the the words of the known song echo from the kitchen to my room, the melody being delicately hummed by her fragile voice while she did the morning dishes, hearing the clanging of the plates hit the sink. “ _Deep between the canyons…_ “ She had a beautiful voice, one I heard rarely since my father died. There was only one other day besides his death day when she sang, and it was always on _reaping day_.

 

“Keith…” I heard my big brother Shiro’s voice from the door. My hand felt for my blade on the nightstand, still there. I tugged at the handle, gripping it into the palm of my hand, relief catching my face, slicing away the nightmares. The nightmare of being reaped.

 

My hand gripped the blade even tighter, my jaw clenching. “I know…” I muttered, not looking at him. But when when my eyes refused to look away, they caught a tall boy at 18, wearing a black, tight polo and worn out black slacks. His face was soft, despite the scar running across the bridge of his nose. I saw a glint in those steel gray eyes, with their slanted shape like mine when they caught my indigo ones, the white tuft of his hair bouncing when he tried to make a calming look by leaning against my bedroom door.

 

Reaping day happened once a year. A girl and a boy would be drawn to participate, and become competitors in the annual Hunger Games. I made a sour face just thinking about the concepted tournament created by our country’s leader: President Zarkon.

 

Once a boy and girl from each district is reaped, they are thrown into a whirlwind behind cameras, being exposed to the rest of the country before they fight to the death against 22 other participants, and only one victor. The Hunger Games. I felt an acid reflux happening in my throat thinking about the name. It was suitable. Given the participants become hungry for one thing; to survive. And to survive there is only one thing you can do; kill.

 

“She’ll be a mess today. I don’t think she should come with us to the square…” I said, pulling off the bed covers and finding a black t-shirt and black pants.

 

District 12 was poor. One of the poorest out of the 12 Districts that make up our country of Altea, and if you don’t count the Galra Empire who held the leaders and creators of the Hunger Games. Disgusting, the Galra. All the inhabitants of the Empire thought about were their wealth, and their status. They saw the games as a reality TV show to look forward to every year, betting on their favorite competitor, buying tickets to see the interviews live and the ceremonies. Repulsive was the word to describe it all. And all because President Zarkon wanted to prove a point:

 

That he had power and wasn’t afraid to use it.

 

Shiro nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll get Acxa to watch her….She’s going to need someone to hold her close while we wait in the square.”

 

I slid my blade through my brown belt, putting on my black aviator jacket, or, my father’s jacket. Then took my long black hair and braided it to the side, letting it slide past my shoulder. “I’ll go find her. You watch after mom. She still won’t…and knowing what today is..” I trudged passed Shiro without saying another word, thinking about how unstable our mother had become the past three years when he died. She wouldn’t even look at me the way she used to, all she ever saw when she saw me, was him, and it always took a toll on her sanity.

 

“Don’t be long...the reaping starts in an hour. Make sure Acxa finds her before that..” I heard his voice, stern, quiet, sad.

 

“Yeah...I hear ya, bro. Count on me to find her, she’s probably at the hub.” I pulled on my boots and left him with mom.

 

\--

 

“Keith...a piece of cheese to lighten up the mood?” I grabbed the small piece of soft, yellow cheese and ate it in one bite. The McClains had the best dairy products at the Hub, mom would always be able to muster a smile whenever I was able to buy a pint of Kaltenecker milk or cheese. She loved it. The smile on her face would last no longer than the food did, and then it would fade away, without a trace of ever being present. But, whenever I saw the smile that reminded me of her past happiness, a spark would happen in my heart, and I wanted that spark to ignite.

 

Veronica McClain was behind the stall today. Her younger brother, who was the same age as me, 16, he was probably at home getting ready. _For the reaping,_ I shuddered. “Thanks, Ronnie. Is Lance at home?” I asked her, avoiding her sad tan face at the mention of her younger brother.  

 

“Yeah..he’s scared like you guys...whenever the reaping happens, he..” She fixed her red glasses before going on, biting nervously on her lower lip. “He cries, Keith. So much. It doesn’t stop, not until he doesn’t hear his name.” I could see her glasses fogging up.

 

“Tell him not to worry. He usually has luck on his side.” I tried to reassure her, but we all knew that luck was useless during the reaping. No one had luck on their side when it came to the reaping. If your name is drawn, you’re dead. Unless someone volunteers, but during the past 49 Hunger Games, not a single soul has taken the bullet for someone else. Not once.

 

Veronica makes a low smile at me, then perks up and goes back to her usual chipper self when someone wants to buy something from her stall, giving me a curt nod with her head when I made my way deeper into the Hub.

 

Furthest to the back of the Hub, past all of the food stalls, I found Acxa. She was pestering with the blacksmith, asking him to sharpen her tools before she wanted to go hunting after the reaping. Hunting calmed her. Hunting meant food. Hunting in District 12 also meant penalty.

 

I smiled, knowing that was a word she alway cast aside, not caring about the Galra soldiers finding her past the fences, hunting for Game. Her family was important to feed, and mine. She was almost like a long lost sister to me and Shiro, and there were several occasions where we owed her our lives.

 

“Hey, Mullethead. How you holding up? Scared?” She looked down at her bow, the silver metal rusting up, her blade, similar to mine, resting in her other hand.

 

A crooked grin broke on my face. “‘Course. Scared shitless, but what can we do? Fight the Galra? Chop President Zarkon’s head off?” I snorted at the thought of getting even close enough to be able to chop his fucking head off.

 

The blacksmith grabbed her blade, studying it, then her bow. “5 pieces.” He offered.

 

“Fuck! That’s too much, dude. 3 pieces and I’ll shoot you some game, too. Deal?” She struck out her hand. He took it. “Yeah, deal.”

“Fucktabulous.” Acxa cooed and handed him her bow, too. “When I come back, they better fucking blind me.” The blacksmith grunted in appreciation, and rolled his eyes at the both of us when we made out way out of the Hub. “Bye, babe! I’ll see you later.” Acxa ran up to Veronica and planted a chaste kiss on her lips before running back to me.

 

We sat on the grass outside my house, looking out at the glittering lake below the sun that was lowering by the hour. Shiro would be coming out the door soon, walking with me to the square. To line up. Wait. Hope Romelle doesn’t call our names.

 

“This year is fucking awful.” I stated, thinking back to the day they announced how close the annual Hungers Games was getting.

 

\--

 

_“And now for your one and only, President Zarkon!” Coran-the-man boomed with a cheerful voice through the camera as he held a hand out towards the podium where President Zarkon made way to stand behind and present this year’s Hunger Games details._

 

_President Zarkon found his footing behind the podium looking tall and proud. The purple of his skin glowing through the Holo. His body was large, extremely large that it was intimidating enough staring at him from the screen. He had ironically enough, a kind face, like he was a loving father and devoting husband, but when he opened his mouth, he turned into the President, he turned into the creator of the Hunger Games. He turned into power._

 

_“It is with my humble pleasure to announce the start of the 50th annual Hunger Games!” He waited till the booming applause from his soldiers and fans from the Empire died down before continuing. “This year is special. We have reached the second Quarter Quell, and we have a special treat to spice up the games.” The crowd kept quiet in anticipation._

 

_During the 25th Hunger Games, the first Quarter Quell. The special twist was to reap earlier victors from each district. It was a slaughter fest of past winners. They were content with their lives after being a part of the games, and then being reaped back into what they tried so hard to win. They were angry to say the least._

 

_President Zarkon smiled proudly as he stuffed his hand into the clear purple bowl. His hand pulled up with a round chip, then pressed the button. A Holo of written words in the Empire’s language glowed in dark purple letters. President Zarkon cleared his throat to translate for the rest of Altea. “This years Hunger Games, the second Quarter Quell, will only reap one of the chosen sexes, boys or girls.” President Zarkon took in the chattering of the crowds before being presented with a new purple bowl that inhabited only two round chips. His hand fell back in, then pulled quickly out and tapped the button of the chosen chip, his face placid. “Boys!” He cheered, then cleared his throat again. “This years Hunger Games will have 24 boy competitors to fight to the death! Each district will still reap two competitors, although instead of one girl and one boy, we will reap two boys from each district!”_

 

_“Let the season of the 50th Hunger Games, begin!”_

 

_“Vrepit Sa!” President Zarkon shouted proudly to his people._

 

_\--_

“Your mom is probably more a wreck today than she usually is knowing both her sons could be reaped.” Acxa said, landing a rough light purple hand on my knee.

 

I looked up to catch her bright yellow eyes. She was a half-blood; part galran, but also part human, her features a mixture of both, but she was the most humane and kind person I knew of, or, well, besides one other person.

 

“Yeah. She was singing though...but I left the house before she could see me…” I held a gloved hand to my elbow, wearing a cold look, thinking about how much my mother couldn’t stand looking at me. “Acxa, if Shiro and I are reaped…” I started, but was cut off from her slightly shaking head, the short blue strands of her hair swishing along with her.

 

“Don’t...what would the odds be for both of you to be drawn? I know Shiro...he has worse odds of the two of you since he’s 18 and put in more draws to get more food. But. There are a lot of boys who turned 12 this year- Fuck, I sound like a monster. I just don’t want to lose either of you two. I - your mother, we both need you two...to stay sane. Ronnie can only do so much for me, I love her to death, but you two. You guys are my brothers.” She hugged me sideways, nuzzling her face on my shoulder.

 

“ _Vrepit Sa_..” I mocked, thinking about the horrors behind the Galra saying.  

 

“ _Vrepit Sa..”_ She replied muffled into my shoulder.

 

We both craned our necks as we heard the whine of the front door opening and catching Shiro coming out from it wearing boots, and had put on his prosthetic arm. The memory of the day he lost his arm flashed before me, but left all in the same moment. He never liked talking about that day, and he never complained about losing an arm. Luckily for us, our father was able to save enough pieces to buy at least a doable prosthetic arm that allowed Shiro to do the bare minimum with it. He could bend it at the elbow, and wiggle the fingers, but once the palm of his hand wanted to grip something, it took all of his strength and willpower to even manage to hold on to something, and the face he made every time he failed killed me.

 

“You ready?” Shiro asked, he raised his brows as the familiar horn blared through the speakers from the Square to indicate the kids between 12 and 18 had to go line up and wait for the draws.

 

Acxa helped me up on my feet. I dusted the grass off my pants, patting the back of my belt for my blade, letting my thumb rub the crest of the lions head on the hilt of my blade. It was luckily, still there and I turned up to look at my brother with a taut expression. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are! I'll post chapter three tomorrow, then let this story simmer until I'm almost finished with my other long fic. 
> 
> I'm open for criticism (as long as it doesn't make me cry - haha) and prompts! I need ideas for an Arena - thinking a castle of lions type arena, but I would love for it to have a twist like in Catching Fire. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter - and if there are any grammatical/spelling mistakes I'll fix them later.

All I saw in the square were boys. Boys in all shapes and sizes, but mostly of the thinner size. District 12 had been suffering from starvation for many years, and after an accident that caused the District to lose most of their sources, food had become scarce, and the people frailer than ever.

 

I took in the boys who had already found their spot to line up. The game makers were strict on being organized and structured. They wanted the kids who were going to be reaped to stand in line by their age. I would have to find the group of 16 year olds and Shiro would have to find the group with the 18 year olds.

 

Shiro held his real arm up to wave at his friend Curtis, who had found the spot with the 18 year olds. “I see Curtis.” He smiled forcefully. I knew how much he liked the guy, but knowing that the person you like could become someone you’d have to kill, often cancelled the mood. Shiro had had a crush on Curtis for the past year when they started training together, but they never took it to the next step. The Hunger Games did that to one, it stopped love. He told me he wanted to wait until after today before he took the plunge and ask Curtis out for a date, if everything went well.

 

You have a shot at being reaped from the day you turn 12 and through the year you turn 18. Once the reaping of the year you’re 18 is over and your name isn’t drawn, you’re safe. You get to live. Or, at least avoid being mauled to death by another kid or a concocted evil monster by the gamemakers.

 

“Go. Tell him I said hi.” I averted my gaze, not having the guts to look my brother in the eyes knowing what was going to happen in minutes. He grabbed both of my shoulders to turn me to face him. His hand glided down my side-braid, a warm smile finding his face. “Dad always said to grow out your hair. You do look like a rebel. Suits you, Keith.” Shiro made a brave face, the scar across his nose shining a bright, pale pink color under the orange sun.

 

I blinked back any unwanted tears. “Dad always said to take care of you and mom, too. Now look where that got us.” I craned my neck to find my spot, and caught a wave of an ocean in the monotone crowd. I knew he’d be here, but his presence was always so...prominent.

 

Shiro took my whole body in for a deep hug. I could feel the wetness of the tears that tracked down his fair face. “Don’t say that, Keith. You’ve done more than you ever could. Mom needs you. She just...she needs more time. You remind her too much of…” I wiped the wetness away from his face with my jacket sleeve. “Go. I’ll see you on the other side.”

 

“Let’s hope it’s the living side.” Shiro hugged me once more before walking to Curtis and the other 18 year olds.

 

Hope. A word that sparked no meaning here, I thought as I dragged my legs to the small group of 16 year old boys. There were 15 boys in the spot, all lined up next to each other in 3 rows of 5. I placed myself behind him, making a new row. It was undeniable that he was Veronica's little brother. They shared the same golden tanned complexion and dark brown chestnut colored hair, but from there it stopped.

 

Where Veronica was average height, her little brother was tall. Taller than most boys in our age group. As I stood behind him, a few inches short than him, taking in the swirl of his brown head, noticing the length of his hair brushing the nape of his golden neck, the only thing I wanted to see before the reaping started were those eyes. Darker than the deepest blue of the ocean, and for some reason, whenever the pair caught mine, I would always feel a sense of...calmness.

 

We grew up together, or in some way we always were aware of each other, but we never shared words until starting secondary school at the age of 13. And for the past three years, I still haven’t mustered the guts to have a normal conversation with him. I would like to say the reason for that was because he would always hang around the Altean girl, Allura. She, like her mother, were one of the few last remaining pure blooded Alteans.

 

Veronica’s little brother, he, he was never alone when I wanted to talk to him. At school I would always be one my own, _the loner_ , the other kids in our grade would call me, and I would at times catch those deep blue eyes finding mine and calming my roaring heart. But, she would always be there beside him, protecting him as it always seemed; white long hair - blue-magenta eyes turning into a flame when I even chanced a glance to look at him. He was hers, is what her eyes would always say when she looked at me with her dark brown complexion and twitch those pointy ears. _Back off,_ her expression would always say. My guess would be she was in love with him, but, could be she needed him as much as I needed Acxa and my brother. I understood her dominance, her possession of him to say it like that, but he was his own person, too.  

 

Only on one or two occasions was I able to have a solid conversation with him at school. Once when Allura was sick and had to stay home. He asked me if I liked to draw, I said yes and we both wounded up under a large tree looking out at the river with our canvases, drawing, not a single other word being said between us. The second time, Allura had to help another girl to a medic and left him alone with me during our food break. He said he had heard of the food they ate in the Empire, how it tasted like sugar. He always wondered what sugar tasted like, I agreed.

His voice was always calm. Still, like a river when it wasn’t touched by the wind. Whenever I made eyes at him, my body would stop remembering the bad things in our life, the games never ceased to exist, my dad would still be alive, my mother...she would still look at me.

 

Ever since I learned he worked in the Hub after school with his parents and sisters, I would find any opportunity to roam the place, in need of a new pair of jeans, or just to have a quick look and there he’d be, smiling the brightest smile known to man, like the sun shining on a bad day. He would have that kind face on him even during the toughest of times. And whenever he caught me roaming the hub, he would wave a tan hand at me shouting “Keith!”, then give me his smile, and I would take it with me home and never forget it until the next time I saw him.

 

The anthem started playing, dragging me out of my thoughts and staring up at the stage. Romelle, District 12’s spokeswoman, and also a remaining pure-blood Altean from before the war, she made her way up to the podium. Altean blood was special compared to humans. It made the person age twice as slow as a normal human, and there had been long time rumors of the blood having a special power, what, no one had the nerve to find out without the Galra finding them. So it still remained a mystery.

 

Romelle stood at the podium, her long strawberry blonde hair set up to look like a beehive nest, and wearing a long, golden dress that sweeped the stage floor. Her icy blue eyes shined from the Holo for everyone to look at her, her pointy ears twitching, and her smile forced. She opened her mouth as she took in the boys from 12 to 18 standing, no, trembling, waiting impatiently for the this day to be over with. With her Altean heritage, Romelle stood tall and proud, and knowing the war ended 51 years ago, she didn’t look a day over 30.

 

When the anthem stopped playing, all our eyes went to either her being on the stage or up to the large Holo, hovering in the air. “Welcome, welcome. To a new reaping, District 12.” Romelle said in her Altean accent, then swallowed before continuing. “We are gathered here today to draw to new competitors for the annual Hunger Games….It is an honor to be drawn, as you will represent your district and fight to the death against the other districts to honor your title as competitor, and maybe, even victor. As we all know, this year is a special year. It is the second Quarter Quell, the 50th Hunger Games, and for this year instead of one boy and one girl, we will be pleased to witness a game of all boys fighting for their survival.” She closed her small mouth, twitching the corners into a soft smile before looking up at the Holo, the rest of the square following her angled face.

 

Always before the draw, the same video they showed every year appeared on the Holo, to remind the Districts and the country of Altea why the games exist, why President Zarkon still reigns and has power over every one. It is to remind us that we are weak.

 

The Holo showed Romelle again when the video of the war between the Galra and the Alteans finished playing, President Zarkon’s voice shouting with dignity, _Vrepit Sa,_ ending the video. Romelle forces a new bright smile. “Now for what we have all been waiting for.”

 

Instead of the usual two bowls, one for the girls’ names and one for the boys’, the haunting image of only one bowl resting before her caught my eyes, and made my stomach turn.

 

I knew what the odds would be for Shiro to be picked, and the odds were high. It was his last year to put in more names, and in return our family will survive another year on rice and clean water. But, I prayed to the stars that she didn’t call his name. He wouldn’t survive, not with his arm like that, not when we both knew he was the only one of the two of us who could take care of mom. She couldn’t pull out his name, she can’t, just don’t.

 

Veronica’s brother shifted in front of me, his legs buckling when we saw Romelle dip her perfect gold glittered nails into the bowl, then grab onto a blue chip and pull it up. My hand reached forward to grab at his arm to calm him down, but I pulled it back when Romelle pushed the button on the chip…”Our first competitor is...Lance McClain!”

 

That was his name. He was reaped, holy fucking rover, he was reaped. The kindest kid in all of District 12, going into the Hunger Games. He’ll be dead before the horn blares. I saw the buckle in his legs deepen when he heard his name being called, and the screams of Veronica and Allura’s voices behind us. He turned around to look at her, but instead, his dark blue eyes caught mine, and then he smiled.

 

“Come now, come now, Mr. McClain, we don’t have all day.” Romelle said in a cheerful voice, and Lance’s eyes pulled away from mine when he started walking, his legs wobbly, up to the stage.

 

On the stage, Lance was making, or trying very hard to make a brave face. His slender nose, and defined mouth were wet with tears, but he kept looking forward, not letting the pressure of soon being killed in an arena with 23 other boys getting to him. His head was raised high and he stood with his hands behind his back, nodding to Romelle by her side.

 

“Now. For our second, and last competitor. Oh..this is exciting!” She said, but it was obvious to see she despised how she had to act, being owned by the Empire. If she went against them and their ways, she would be skinned alive and put on a pike to demonstrate what they can do if someone didn’t follow their rules.

 

I took a sharp breath in through my nose when her hand went back into the bowl and pulled out a new chip. My breath stayed in my lungs until she pushed the button. We couldn’t read the name that shined through the Holo that beamed up from the chip, being in the Galra language, and the Districts decided not to learn it to be the closest we ever could go to resemble a rebellion.

 

My mind wandered to Shiro. He was standing next to Curtis wearing a look that resembled Lance’s, like he was ready to hear his name. No. Don’t call out his name. If she does, then I don’t know what I’ll do.

 

Romelle smiled brightly, looking at Lance, then to the crowd when her cheerful voice filled the Square.

 

“Takashi Kogane!”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! The sample chapters I planned on writing. This fic will now simmer until I finish The Name's Lance, then maybe go back to writing more on this one. 
> 
> Hope you like what you've read so far, and i'm open for ideas so let them come. :) 
> 
> If there are mistake they will be fixed sooner or later.

Recognition didn’t hit me when she called out the name. It was a name he hardly ever used. Everyone called him Shiro, because our mother’s maiden name was Shirogane, so when the name _Takashi Kogane_ filled the square, it took me ten seconds to remember that the worst had happened. Shiro was reaped.

 

My eyes flew to where Shiro stood, who was already making his way out of the group of 18 year olds. I could feel my legs moving on their own, running past the other boys in my own group. Watching, staring hard at Shiro’s broad back when he started walking towards the stage.

 

“Shiro!!” I screamed behind him, my voice cracking at the name.

 

Tears were welling up behind my eyes, my heart already clogging my throat, hammering behind my ribs, threatening to break them. No. “No!” The crack of my voice turned into a plea.

 

“Keith, go back in line.” Shiro pointed to the other lined up boys who were all staring at me with sad looks, and he held up his real hand towards the Galra soldiers who were inching in on the two of us, their rifles ready. Everyone we knew looked up to Shiro, and I’m sure they’re thinking he could win this. He could be the second victor of District 12. We haven’t had a victor in 25 years, and Shiro, I’m positive everyone is thinking, he could bring home that win. But no, he can’t. I know he can’t. Not because he’s weak, but because he’s not capable of killing. Like Lance, he is the embodiment of kindness. I, on the other hand.

 

I could feel the burn of my eyes, knowing the indigo color of my irises turning into a roaring flame as I stared in outrage at Shiro first, catching his curious look, a look that said, _don’t you fucking dare,_ and then I screamed with everything I had in my lungs at the stage.

 

“I volunteer!”

 

Shiro flared his nostrils at me.

 

“I fucking volunteer as competitor!” I made a look back at him, furrowing my black brows.

 

And everyone in the square went still. Only casting their stares at me, Romelle’s icy blue eyes going warm then cold in the blink of an eye. “If this isn’t a first.” She said low, then cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen of District 12, Galra Empire, and country of Altea. In the span of 50 years, we have our first volunteer!”

 

Shiro’s expression was the face of pure rage. I started walking towards him, feeling the heat of his anger radiating off of him to me. When I caught up to him, standing before him almost a head shorter, looking at the red of his eyes from crying new tears. I chose not to look away. “Take care of mom.” I said, and felt him close in and grab my shoulders, pulling me in to him.

 

“Win.” Was all he said, and moved back to the group of 18 year olds.

 

That was all I needed to hear from him, moving to stand on the stage, grabbing Romelle’s outstretched hand, feeling the sharpness of her golden nails digging into my skin as she pulled me towards the microphone. “Now young man, tell us your name...” She moved the microphone to my face, her blue eyes threatening with what the Galra are capable of if I don’t listen.

 

I moved my lips close to the black of the microphone. “Keith Kogane.” I said with a shaky voice, moving my gaze to catch Lance’s dark blue eyes, his expression still the same as it was a moment ago, but there was a quaint softness when the edges of his eyes crinkled at me, calming the shaking in my breath.

 

“Kogane. So that must have been your older brother! So sweet, this is a true picture of brotherly love.” Romelle cooed delightedly and pushed me to stand next to Lance, feeling my hip bump his as she rushed me over.

 

“Sorry.” I whispered when our hips lightly crashed, but Lance was able to break into a subtle smile for only me to witness. “There are other things to be sorry for..” He said low enough for my ears to catch until we both shot up to catch Romelle continue talking.

 

“And that’s it. The reaping for this year is officially over. The competitors will be given thirty minutes to say their farewells to their loved ones before being put on a ship to the Empire.” Romelle clapped her hands to inform the square to go on with their lives, and to wait for next year’s reaping to do this dance all over again. By the time the next reaping happens, I’ll probably be dead.

 

My eyes caught Shiro still standing in the square, being dragged by Curtis, but he kept his gaze on me. I would have liked to use my last thirty minutes in District 12 to talk to him and mom, and Acxa, but we both knew his last word was all that needed to pass between us until the next time we met. And I promise we will meet again.

 

He nodded at me from the ground, his face proud, scared, soft - dark eyes full of understanding for why I did what I did. I nodded back, swallowing the last of the spit resting at the back of my now dry tongue, knowing I made the right choice. What’s done is done, there was no going back. Shiro’s name had been drawn, and I did what no one else was brave enough to do. I saved him. Now I have to save myself.

 

\--

 

Lance and I were ushered into the Mayor’s house. Inside we were met with our mentor; previous winner of the 24th Hunger Games and, believable enough, the first Quarter Quell, Iverson. No one knew his first name as he was a man with many secrets, so everyone ended up calling him for Iverson, and he never said anything against it. He was sitting slumped in a comfortable armchair, his dark brown skin looking moist of sweat, and his long scar tracing vertically down from his left eyebrow to the line of his jaw being the first thing you noticed when you caught his striking features.

 

Iverson is not nice. He’s a fucking prick in my opinion, not having a care for anyone else except for himself. Some people say the games changed him, knowing he had to go through the horrors of the Hunger Games twice. Others his age have said he was like this before his name ever touched the woman’s lips during his first reaping.

 

He was nursing a silver hip flask, wearing a greedy look when both Lance and I sat down in the living room on one of the larger, nicer, sofas. “I can admit, I was excited to see who would be reaped this year knowing we’d get two boys and no girls. But, having a go at the two of you…” His brown eyes trailed Lance and I, letting out a sharp nasal breath, “President Zarkon should have drawn the girls’ chip.” He took a long swig of his flask, a sound of satisfaction leaving his throat.

 

The tips of my ears were burning, and I felt my hand ready to pull forth my blade, but was stopped in the nick of time when Lance’s family and Allura rushed into the house to hug their son, brother and friend wearing looks of despair.

 

Knowing that no one would come say goodbye to me, I caught a head of blue hair behind Veronica. “Acxa?” She fell in the chair next to me, hovering a light purple hand over mine. I grabbed it, gripping it tightly, pretending it was my brother’s hand, too. “Fuck - this really happened, huh…” Her yellow eyes were glowing, streaks of tears running down her cheeks.

 

I tipped a corner of my mouth up. “It really happened.” There wasn’t much to say. We were both, no, we were all prepared for something like this to happen, but knowing that it actually happened was still a surprise. One still hard to take in and process.

 

Acxa met with Veronica’s eyes and both nodded knowing they were both hurting now and would need each other to pull through. We all knew that there could only be one victor, and if we wanted a victor from District 12, than that meant one of us was going to die no matter what. I leaned in to make sure Lance’s family didn’t hear me, but they were dragged into a new room to talk to Lance, leaving Allura to sit alone at the dining table. Waiting for her turn.

 

I looked at the double doors with Lance and his family behind it, thinking that he didn’t deserve to die, but I made a promise to Shiro. “Shiro told me to win, Acxa…” I said, not knowing what I wanted to prove by saying it. I guess saying the words out loud would help me recognize the situation at hand, that I did have to win, I would have to become a fan favorite, train, become liked and worst of all, be able to pull off murder.

 

The thought of murdering kids my age in cold blood made my insides waver. Sure, I’d killed before, but that was on hunting trips with Acxa, and they were animals, not people. Not innocent kids. Kids who had nothing to do with the war. Kids who didn’t deserve to die. I thought about Lance again.

 

“Then you keep that promise if you feel like you have to. Ronnie…” Acxa blinked away new tears, having been in a relationship with her for the past two years and growing to be fond of her little brother. She could lose two brothers now, and the hurt on her face was present as the light of day.

 

I pulled her in for a hug, breathing in the scent of smoke from a burning fire, letting it emblazon the spark inside of me. “I can take care of him...if that’ll help Ronnie, and you.” I caught Allura flash her magenta eyes at me at the mention of taking care of her best friend. Her dark face was hard, like she knew how much she hated me even if she didn’t know me, but she knew if she wanted Lance to live, someone would have to watch out for him. She looked away not pressing the matter.

 

Ronnie opened the double doors, being followed by her parents and other sister, Nera. I caught Lance’s figure sitting on a chair in the room waiting for Allura. “Lura?” I heard him call with a shaky voice.

 

“I’m here, Lonce…” She said calmly, giving me another hard look before closing the double doors.

 

Acxa pulled me in for one last hug. “Whatever you decide to do, Keith. We’ll be cheering for you. Please….Please don’t die.” Her voice hitched, and she left with Ronnie and Lance’s family, leaving my heart slowly splitting.

 

Iverson was out cold on the armchair. I decided to make my way over to the double doors to listen in on Lance and Allura. Why, I wasn’t sure, but something inside of me pulled towards the door and here I am.

 

“Lonce...this is tragic. I’m so sorry this happened to you. If only I had the power to convince the Galra to let me take your place, or let someone else take it..If only the Alteans that are left had been able to figure out the mystery of our blood. I might have been able to stop this.” She was crying, I could hear the hitching, and sobbing of her voice loud through the crack of the double doors.

 

“Lura. We both knew we couldn’t have stopped this if it happened, and now it’s happened. I’ll do my best to win the games. Survive. Come back to you, my best friend.” Lance said with a gentle, steady voice. I thought the sound of his voice always had a sound of enticement, a way of luring people in.

 

There was a pause between the two, and my imagination went wild. I heard a low smack, which only indicated, in my mind, the sound of a kiss, but if it were one on the lips or the cheek, my imagination would have to decide for me.

 

I heard her footsteps near the doors, and I quickly sweeped my legs to the right, staring at the tall brown bookshelf packed with books, pretending to mind my own business. Her face was similar to Acxa, Ronnie and Shiro’s. Blue eyes ringed in magenta were glazed over by crying, her tear tracks stained on her dark skin.

 

Her face craned to me. I had found a book, pretending with my hardest to look interested in what was written down, but we both knew that wasn’t true. She came close, her long eyelashes fluttering on my cheeks. “He doesn’t deserve to die…” Was all she forced out in a quiet whine, then she left.

 

The front door slammed with a loud thud, waking Iverson up from his drunken slumber. “I’m awake! I’m up.” He grabbed hold of the armchair, pressing himself to sit up properly and give another once over of me, and now Lance who had found his way back in the living room, standing next to me by the bookshelf.

 

He was wearing a ragged light blue shirt with the buttons opened, revealing a white t-shirt underneath and blue jeans. Around his neck, I noticed a gold chain and a pendant of a lion, one that looked oddly enough, similar to the crest made on my blade. He was quiet. Lance. He hadn’t had the chance to say a single word to me when we made it to the Mayor’s house, and now we were both going to fight together in the arena. As allies or as enemies, we didn't know yet. But right now, I knew I didn’t want to talk to him. We were passed the point of no return, and making friendships or bonds has no usage now. So might as well ignore him.

 

“Boys!” Romelle bursted through the door with her forced pretty smile, still looking like a million pieces. She had her hands held together, but her face fell when she took in Iverson. “Iverson..” She muttered.

 

“Witch.” He shot back, filling his flask with the alcohol he found on one of the tables in the room.

 

“Oh ignore him, he can be a right ol’ drunk...but he doesn’t mean what he says. He’ll sober up once we reach the Empire.” She beamed at the mention of the Empire. Even if the Galra owned her and could control her, she was still a woman of luxury, and the Empire promised her more than that.

 

Lance and I shared looks, his thin brown brows slowly rising at the mention of the Empire, and mine going low with anger. We looked back at Romelle, like we were two scared lost little deer in need of a mother. “Oh, come now. You two will have the time of your lives before the games. You’ll indulge in fabulous foods, and wardrobes and ooooh, you’ll be on TV!” She ran to stand behind Lance and I, planting a delicate hand on each our shoulders, pulling us in. “Speaking of...your ship has arrived.”


End file.
